


Through the Night

by Arithanas



Category: The Borgias (2011)
Genre: Gen, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 05:13:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithanas/pseuds/Arithanas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What must do a son to keep his family safe and sound when tragedy strikes?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kawabiala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawabiala/gifts).



> This scene takes place a little bit after of the events related on 2X10.

Cesare Borgia closed the door behind his back. There was nothing he could do, and being bereft of options was a new, scary condition. To find betrayal under what one had previously considered a secure location was unsettling. As soon as the physicians took charge he did what he believed to be the safest action: he commanded Micheletto to guard his family, and even then, he was restless. If his father, who was a deft judge of character, made a mistake with his wine-taster, Cesare could make a mistake with his favorite _condottiere_.

It was a relief to find the women of his life and his nephew on the Room of the Faith, and a smug smile filled his face when he hold up his gaze and he found his mercenary ready to pin him up to the door with a throw knife. Brave and ruthless Micheletto. Somehow, Cesare felt a bit bad for having suspected his mistrustful and loyal nature, not enough to show it, but enough to file it away for future reference. He called Micheletto with a sign and the assassin was polite enough to bid his farewell to the ladies with a nod before went to his master on tiptoes.

"Was there any trouble?" A silent shook of the head was his answer. "Where is Little Giovanni's wet nurse?"

“Behind the tapestry, in the niche, my lord,” Micheletto whispered to him, with a matter of fact nod, “she needed her rest for she was fidgety, yes?”

“Good.” 

“My lord...”

“What is it?”

“I need your consent to be absent.”

“Do you have a more important matter at the moment?”

“I need to keep close surveillance on the _condottieri_.”

“Who summoned those stray dogs?”

“I did it,” Micheletto looked at him sideways, as if he was ashamed of working without his acquiescence or, maybe, as if he was shamed of his limitations, “I can't have eyes everywhere.”

“Go. I’ll be here for a while.”

Micheletto got out as silently as he could, the door barely made a sound as it was latched, but Cesare needed some time to compose himself. The fact that Micheletto felt the need to call for reinforcements didn't help his master's gnawing anxiety. As usual, Micheletto could see far than Cesare, who was always thinking on small scale, his family was the only thing important, but a band of bloodthirsty mercenaries guarding his home conveyed a different message: If there was an attempt, without regard if it was to be successful, other attempts could be on it's way.

His father was on the verge of agony, poison could end his life and Cesare had to devise how not to loose the rest of his family. They were his responsibility now, and for a moment, the specter of his late brother came to his spirit, then he brushed aside that harebrained idea. Juan was useless, and a danger for his family, he had to go. The sooner the better. Now, he would be a dead-weight he had to drag around while worrying for Lucrezia and his mother. 

Now, Cesare stood alone.

Being alone to fight for his family was not specially scary, what could be bloodcurdling would be to fail on doing so. For a second he visualized his father, lain down on the floor, blood dripping from his mouth and the chills made him shudder. That should never happen again. Never.

He went over his resources, the stray dogs were a good support at first, but their work had limitations. Brute force could block some doors, nevertheless they would not able to stop poisoners but for some days. Some days were better than none. If ― _when_ , it was the word he should use― When his father recovered his health, Cesare would need to implement a new way to achieve security and peace, something he might manage with strong hand and clear objectives. 

Something that produce results.

“Cesare,” his mother voice was clear but a little strain when she called his name. This attempt was wreaking havoc on her composure.

“I'm here, mother,” Cesare felt compelled to soothe her nerves, he would win nothing by keeping her safe but worried. “My mind drifted away a little.”

“Revenge is not priority at this moment, Cesare.”

Revenge was not what it was in his mind, but it was not a path he wouldn't want to explore later. He made a note to put Micheletto's special skills at work.

“It is not, mother. I was thinking about sleeping accommodations,” Cesare knelt beside her and kissed her hand. Lying to her was a second nature for him, for her own good. “This is going to be a long night.”

His mother approved this intentions with a short nod. It was better for her not to think about the impending danger at the moment, tomorrow, when the physicians would say everything would go well, then he could tell her about assassins and protection; then he could think about revenge and payback. Not now.

Lucrezia was crying, with small, faltering sobs, like a child. Cesare went to her, his hands took away the tears clumsily, they were too hurried for being delicate.

“Now, now, little sister,” Cesare kissed her crestfallen brow. “Let us not upset little Giovanni.”

“I'm just fretful, Cesare,” Lucrezia tried to wipe away the tears before he could mar her makeup. “Father was so angry at us last time we speak...”

It was not worth fretting over something you couldn't fix, but it would make Lucrezia no good if he would say that sentence aloud.

“There would be time to make amends, little sister,” Cesare took Giovanni from her lap and cradled him, it was the lest he could do. “God will grant father health, and you might make up for your words nursing him back to his feet...”

“This time your brother might be right, Lucrezia,” Vanozza said and her eyes watched Cesare closely as he walk about the baby around the room. “Heed his words for it would be a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

Cesare knew there was a lot of wishful thinking in that conversation, but if deceiving themselves would help them go through the night, then so be it.


End file.
